


The Bodyguard

by NachoDiablo



Series: Sam Wilson Bingo [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bodyguard AU, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Singer Sam Wilson, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 17:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30025347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/NachoDiablo
Summary: Singer Sam's always got bodyguard Steve on his left.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Series: Sam Wilson Bingo [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046332
Comments: 13
Kudos: 35
Collections: Sam Wilson Bingo 2020





	The Bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Sam Wilson Bingo square, "Brock Rumlow."

Security detail wasn’t new to Sam. Ever since his career had taken off for real ten years ago, he’d gotten used to people lurking in his peripheral. But a dedicated bodyguard by his side twenty-four-seven was serious overkill.

When he told Nat that, she scowled at him and shoved her phone in his face.  _ Celebrity Stalker Escapes From Custody  _ screamed the news site headline. Brock Rumlow’s ugly mug sneered at him from the lower left corner. Sam rolled his eyes and pushed the phone away.

“It’s not a big deal,” Sam said. “His hit list had a hundred people on it. Doubtful that I’ll be a target.”

“Very doubtful,” Natasha agreed. “In fact, Steve will ensure that you aren’t.”

She squared her jaw and grinned, waiting for him to complain. Instead, Sam sagged against the couch and pretended to watch Chopped. She huffed in annoyance as she left the room, which pleased Sam. He would have lost the argument anyway. At least this way, he got to annoy her, too.

~

Steve turned out to be blond, broad shouldered, and unsmiling. That is, until Sam shook his hand, and a crooked grin sprung across his face. It was a drastic change from his stoic demeanor with the rest of the team, and Sam was unsettled by how quickly he warmed in response.

“I’m a big fan of your work,” Steve said.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“My favorite song of yours is the Tostito’s shuffle.”

Sam’s jaw dropped as Steve’s grin turned to a smirk. Sam had done a few commercial jingles to pay the bills when he’d first started out, though he’d managed to do most of them under an old pseudonym.

“Hey, don’t knock the shuffle,” Sam warned. “It covered my rent for six months.”

“I’ve done way more embarrassing stuff,” Steve assured him. “With a lot less to show for it than three Grammys.”

“I have no doubt of that.”

Steve laughed at the teasing, looking at Sam from under his lashes. Sam’s cheeks flushed as he avoided Nat’s knowing smirk from the doorway.

~

“Any trouble?” Sam asked as he collapsed onto the couch backstage. He needed to catch his breath and drink some water before he got cleaned up and headed out.

Steve shrugged. “Nah, nothing serious.”

Sam felt Steve’s eyes linger on his throat as he drank his water. He set down his bottle and licked his lips, noting the way Steve’s eyes widened just slightly, though the rest of his expression remained unchanged.

“You wanna go back to my room?” Sam asked. 

“What?” Steve’s cheeks went pink.

Sam snickered. “I’m tired, man, I’m not going out tonight. I just wanna shower and get into bed. It’s your job to get me there safely, right?”

“Oh, right.” Steve was still scarlet, but he squared his shoulders. “Come on then, I’ve got you.”

He held out his hand. Sam took it.

~

Sam adjusted the mic and scanned the crowd. He grinned at the fans and their screams went up a decibel. He loved performing; the lights, the energy, the music, the connection with his fans. 

He glanced to his left and saw Steve in the wings backstage. He was watching Sam with soft eyes and a little half-smile that he seemed to save especially for Sam alone. Their eyes met; Sam grinned and raised his left pinky off the mic in a little wave. Steve noticed and waved back, his eyes never leaving Sam.

The next mornings’ reviews claimed it was the best Sam Wilson live show in years.

~

“Any trouble?” Sam murmured. He watched Nat argue with the venue owner. Her eyes were narrowed and she was smiling in a way that would make any smart person fearful. The owner did not seem to be very smart.

Steve frowned and shook his head. “No… Well, maybe. I saw someone. He didn’t stick around, but Nat and I are being extra cautious.”

Sam nudged their shoulders together. “Only the best for your favorite client, huh?”

“Only the best for you, always.”

Steve didn’t look shy when he said it. His gaze remained fixed on Sam. They stood there, eyes locked, until Natasha called them over.

~

Every show, Sam would check his left to make sure Steve was watching. Steve always was. They would exchange waves before every opener. For luck, Sam told himself. No other reason. No matter how intense Steve’s eyes were as they followed Sam’s movements.

~

The hotel door was barely shut when Sam found himself pushed against it as Steve kissed the breath from his lungs. Sam gasped and curled his fingers around that broad back, tilting his head so Steve could kiss his neck while his hands roamed over Sam’s chest, then down to his hips.

Steve pulled back, rested their foreheads together as they both caught their breath, grinning.

“You got trouble now, sweetheart.”

Sam was fine with that.

~

The knife blade lay across Sam’s neck, cool and steady. Blood beaded up from where the edge pressed into his skin. Sam could see it in the mirror, along with the hideous snarl and wild eyes of the knife’s wielder.

“Mixed in a hundred other names for cover, but you were always at the top of my list.” The heat of Rumlow’s breath, hot and soured against his skin, reminded Sam of the canning room in his grandma’s basement, the summer when her preserve jars cracked and went rancid in a heatwave.

“Who are you?” Sam asked, because if he was gonna be murdered, he was determined to make the experience as unpleasant as possible for the perp.

Sure enough, Rumlow growled as his grip tightened on the knife. “You fucking  _ know--  _ I’m the guy who left your protection detail in a pool of his own blood.  _ One  _ guy? You seriously thought  _ one  _ guy could protect you from me?”

The knife shifted, and the bathroom light caught the blade, illuminating the blood already starting to dry as Sam’s blood dripped to mingle with it.

Rumlow opened his mouth but Sam was done. He’d rather die than listen to one more word.

“You better shut the hell up,” he hissed, tensing as he prepared to throw his weight into one last fight for his life.

But the knife blade dropped to the ground and clattered against the tile. Rumlow’s scream died as blood bubbled up in his mouth. Frozen, Sam watched in the mirror as Rumlow’s body slumped out of view. Steve’s face replaced it, battered and bloody, gasping as his eyes met Sam’s in the mirror. They burned too bright for a moment, then flickered out as Steve’s eyelids fluttered closed and he collapsed to the ground.

~

Sam adjusted the volume on his phone. Steve had just spent six hours in surgery and didn’t need Sam’s get-well-soon playlists rousing him too early. He could rest as long as he needed. Sam would wait.

Of course he woke while Sam was asleep himself, having nodded off in the hard plastic chair beside Steve’s hospital bed. Sam awoke with a crick in his neck and a black-eyed blond dork grinning at him.

Steve winced as he shifted to grab Sam’s hand, but his grin never dropped. He pulled Sam’s hand to his chest and rested it over his heart. 

“Well, I think that was enough trouble for one tour,” Steve sighed. “Hopefully the rest of the shows will be uneventful.”

Sam huffed a laugh, then pulled Steve’s hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to each bruised knuckle.

“Nah, I got a feeling there’s plenty more trouble to come.”


End file.
